olympious wargames software, inc.
Ares Olympious unwrapped his leather clad form from around his lover, gently breaking off their kiss. Warm brown eyes blinked up at him. He leant forward, bussed Joxer gently on the mouth again and slipped out the door with a husky,
"See you later lover."
"Bye Reese."
Came the soft reply.
Ares smiled at his employees as he passed through the large open-plan office. It was a beautiful London morning, sunlight pouring through the glass curtain sheeting of the roof and walls. The sales were up. The competition were down. He was in love with a wonderful man who loved him back. All was right in his world.
As always, the eyes of almost every female, and not a few of the males, followed the founder of Olympious Wargames Software, Inc. as he stalked away through the atrium.
"Close your mouth," Tosca commented to her workmate, "Drooling is not scheduled in your medical records for at least another 40 years."
"Oh man," groaned the webmistress, "One night with him and you could freely put me on a ventilator for the rest of my natural life."
"Yeah, well, as long as our erstwhile head programmer's still breathing there ain't a snowball's chance in Hades of that happening."
Both women fell silent, thinking about the twist of Fate that led one of the most drop dead gorgeous, better-than-chocolate, mind-blowingly sensual hunks in the world to fall head over heels in love with one of the most shy and clumsily awkward (if admittedly brilliant and sweet) men they knew.
"All the good ones are taken."
"Or gay."
"Or both."
"There is no justice."
"The Gods hate us."
"Yeah."
The Litany of Single Women Everywhere completed, they continued with the conversation.
"Though they are soooo sweet together."
"I'll say. Woof! Mr Macho & Leather...
"...and Mr Cuddles & Silk"
"Oh, I can just imag...er, I mean..."
"Ooo yea...er, I mean..."
Silence for a second.
"He may be a klutz, but he's as sweet as allout. And he does have the most gorgeous chocolate eyes."
"Are you having problems with that diet? I'm telling you those things really don..."
"ARGGHHH! That little SHITE!" came an angst ridden scream from a corner cubicle.
Sharon and Tosca looked at each other and giggled at the outrage in Auto's voice.
"Wonder what the master of mayhem's done now?"
The two women got up and wandered nonchalantly towards the drinks machine, where they had a bird's eye view of that section of the menagerie. They could see 'Auto' McLean snarling in rage at his monitor and pounding his keyboard.
No-one knew what the 'A' in his name really stood for, and he and anyone else who knew wasn't saying. 'Auto' used to be his sig back when he was a hacker, and he wasn't saying what that actually stood for either. There was an office pool running - Sharon had her one pound down as Autonobetta. Tosca had hers down as Autoerotica - mainly as she figured no-one was ever going to win the bet so she might as well be amusing without the depravity of punning (and OK, so she was a closet X-filomaniac as well).
There was the sound of management doors opening and Cupid Olympious (a forename that really really warranted matricide, even if the guy was a serious contender for the title 'God of Love') and Joxer Janssen headed towards the continued loud mutterings and cursing emitted in an increasingly broad Scots accent.
"Auto, what's the matter?" Cupid enquired.
"Yer bludy buiyfren' tha's what's tha matta! Not content wi' hackin' inta our secure network, just look a' what tha' little sods gone an' done!" He waved indignantly at the monitor.
Sharon and Tosca were intrigued to see a look of shock, then amusement, sweep over both men's faces before Cupid and Joxer controlled their expressions.
"I'm sure he didn't mean that to go out on the intranet," Joxer tried to pacify the irate network administrator.
The women looked at each other, and abandoning nonchalance skidded back to their desks as fast as they could, clicking onto the intranet. And there, in time to a rock version of "Scotland the Brave", in all their glory against a tartan background, were little dancing Autos. Little dancing Autos in kilts. Little dancing Autos in kilts doing the Highland Fling. Bobbing up and down. And down and up. And up and down.
The floor was suddenly an ocean of giggles and laughter as one employee after another logged onto the intranet.
Thirty seconds later, the network went down.
Tosca wiped the tears from her eyes and beamed at the dark haired youth heading past them.
"You evil, evil boy. Don't you know they burn people at the stake for things like that in Scotland?" she told the company's security tester par excellence.
"Ya think?" the notion seemed to appeal to him, judging from the manic grin that slid onto his face.
"Nah, but I'm sure Auto wishes they did."
"STRIFE!" Auto had spotted the Person Most Likely and dashed over to him, red in the face.
Startled innocence blossomed on Strife's face.
"Yeah Auto? What's up?"
"What's up? WHAT'S UP?" Auto was momentarily distracted by his technical author and webmistress dissolving into hysterical laughter at their desks. He snarled at them in disgust and turned back to the youth twiddling a lock of hair around his finger and gazing at him with an innocent kittenish stare.
"What's up," he snapped, invading Strife's space "Ye littl' prat, is that yuir gonna get th'..."
"What seems to be the problem here?" The cubicle corridor was suddenly filled with big leather-clad badass boss. A babble of voices answered.
"Son. You tell me. And no glossing over Strife's part." He ordered sternly.
Cupid glanced apologetically at his cousin and started talking.
"How does he always turn up like that?" Tosca muttered quietly to Sharon "It's very disconcerting."
"Spy cameras?"
"Here? Man, watching Championship Snooker would be more interesting."
"Oh yeah?" Sharon's voice lowered even further "Neil accidentally left the tickets to that Wheatus concert he went to last month here at work, and when he popped in to pick them up, he said he heard some reeeeally interesting noises coming from Cupid's office."
"Nooo." Tosca's voice held not-very-firm disbelief. She eyed Cupid and Strife with no small amount of interest. The pair were even more open about their relationship than Ares and Joxer, but making out on the manager's desk was just something that happened on "Red Shoe Diaries". At least that's what she'd always thought.
"You're kidding!?" Her tone encouraged Sharon to disagree.
"Scouts Honour."
"You were never a Scout."
"Ah, but I always wanted one."
"Sick Cow."
"Yeah, well, I've been eating British catfood again."
"...left a rather er," Cupid's face twisted as he fished for the appropriate word that would neither exonerate nor condemn his boyfriend "er, discourteous... animated graphic of Auto playing on the intranet main page, though I think it's fair to add th.."
"Enough!" Ares thundered. "Stravos Olympious, apologise."
Strife knew he was in deep kimchee when his uncle called him by his hated full name. Even Cupid winced, then smiled encouragingly at him.
"I'm sorry Auto. I won't do it again. You know I was only trying to help you..."
Ares raised an eyebrow. Auto hrmmphed disbelievingly.
"Aw, Unc, you know you told me to see if I could find any bugs in the security system."
"Yes. But did I tell you to have that much...fun...doing it?"
Strife looked down, remorse painted so thick on his face, it cracked.
"Now, I'm sure you'll be happy spending the weekend writing a report on how you got in.."
"Aw Unc..." the regret was patently sincere now.
Ares continued remorselessly "...and the next week implementing countermeasures."
"Yes Unc." came the glum reply.
The tension amongst the group lowered several notches.
"Reese, why don't you and Auto and I go get a coffee at Starbucks?" The peacemaker as always, Joxer tried to inject a little calming oil into the still choppy waters.
Ares smiled at him.
"Sure. Coming Auto?" he asked his still pissed off network administrator and friend.
He knew the programmers all thought that each and every Starbucks was a divinely Sacred Temple of Caffeine (spoilt only by the absence of such purely American treasures as Jolt and Mountain Dew), but personally he couldn't stand their coffee. Not that he would ever tell his Joxer that.
"Aye."
Auto darted back to his cubicle, grabbed his coat and the three men left, Auto giving his nemesis a parting glare that promised a less than pleasant week ahead, the other two smiling and talking in quiet voices. From the looks of Ares' quirking mouth, Joxer was detailing just what a 'discourteous' animated graphic looked like.
"All next week!" Strife wailed as soon as the office front door shut behind them "It's my Uni break! And I was gonna drag you down to Brighton to go clubbing this weekend!"
"Well look on the bright side, babe." Cupid slid an arm around him "At least he didn't send you to your mother's."
Strife flinched at the thought. His mother was head of her own advertising company, neither she or Ares having gone into their much despised father's banking business. She was commonly known in The City as the Black Widow. And as the title implied, was not the most comfortable of women - or mothers.
"Or even worse," Cupid leaned over to whisper in his ear with a wicked smile, "Uncle Herc's."
Strife shuddered at that possibility. Despite being illegitimate, or maybe even because of that, his grandfather had managed to 'acquire' an MP's seat for his favourite offspring. The armor of moral rectitude Hercules had always worn had become even heavier and louder since 'the People had Chosen Him to be Their Duly Elected Representative'. That pompous bore would probably have set aside an hour each day just to give him the benefit of his sagacity and virtue. Strife felt queasy at the thought. Cupid relented on teasing his lover.
"On the other hand babe," he chucked the younger man under the chin, "You've definitely given the ladies something to talk about."
"Brightened my day." declared Tosca.
"But you've absolutely ruined that fine patriotic song for me." bemoaned Sharon with a smirk.
Strife and Cupid laughed.
"C'mon Cupey, lets go grab an early lunch."
"OK. See ya later - Tosca, Sharon."
"Ciao girls. So, you reckon the sun's over the yardarm yet? I figure it is somewh..."
Tosca appreciatively watched Strife's butt walk away from them. Others might prefer the more blatantly handsome Cupid, but personally she preferred a more subtle appeal. And boy, did he have a deliciously wicked sense of humour. She turned and found Sharon grinning at her.
"Can we say taken?"
"No harm in looking!" Tosca protested.
"And can we say cradlesnatching?"
"Hey, hey, he's only ten years younger!"
Sharon sniggered.
"But they are soooo cute together."
"Yeah, all golden and bronze..."
"And pale and gothic..."
Both women sighed.
"All the good ones are taken."
"Or gay."
"Or both."
"There is no justice."
"The Gods hate us."
"Yeah."